


Teach me, learn me

by Lydia_Martin_trash



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad library etiquette, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Fluff and Humor, Gift Giving, Homophobic Language, M/M, Modern Westeros, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Slow Build, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_Martin_trash/pseuds/Lydia_Martin_trash
Summary: Theon and Robb meet in college and bond over being the only two people with the same sense of humor in a whole room. Things develop from there, and in the following years they learn both each other and how to make their evolving relationship work. Spoiler: it's better than either of them could have imagined."Theon nods approvingly, opens one of Robb's abandoned notebooks and starts doodling.“I might actually need space to write something one day, you know.” Robbs teases him.“The last thing you wrote down is dated four months ago, beginning of the semester.” Theon says. He snorts, then reads what is written out loud. “'Trial by combat should be brought back if the prosecutor is annoying.'"





	Teach me, learn me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starstag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstag/gifts).



> This is my piece for the Throbb Secret santa, a gift for starcallerstag, who asked for college au shenanigans. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> A big thank you for Mija and Danielle, who took time out of their lives to beta read this for me. I can't thank you enough!
> 
> Finally, this world is a strange mix of Westeros and our own, so there are some winks to our world in this. And I made up thenames of the days of the week based on the Seven, as many other fic writers did before me, so:  
> Monday - Fatherday, Tuesday - Motherday, Wednesday -Maidday, Thursday - Smitday, Friday - Warriorday, Saturday - Cronday, and Sunday - Strangerday.
> 
> Spoilers at the end if the tags make you wary.

i.

Robb Stark was raised right. His mother had brought him into this world to be a respectful, kind, and thoughtful man. The kind of man who would never laugh as his teacher describes, in loving detail, the rising of phalo-centric art in the West during the lordship of Twyin Lannister, the last Lord of Casterly Rock.

But Gods, he isn't a septon. He is holding his chuckles in through sheer force of will.

– ...it follows a clear trend. As we can see in this picture, – Professor Pycelle changes the slide and points the laser at the disproportional erection of a golden lion statue, circles it like anyone could have missed the horror. – The girth and length of the lion's member coincides with Lord Twyin's...

From the other side of the room, a loud snort cuts him off in the middle of the sentence. Immediately, Robb starts to grin. The snort echos in the classroom, only adding to the hilarity of the situation, and suddenly Robb can't stop his own laughter anymore.

By the time Professor Pycelle has walked to the switch near the door and turned the lights on, Robb and the black haired guy sitting on the front row are laughing so loudly it sounds like ten people are cracking up, though no one else is making a sound.

The guy has a contagious laughter, a happy sound as elegant as him. Robb has tears in his eyes and oinks accidentally every two breathes. Pycelle throws them both out of the class with a look that promises curses for at least two generations.

That's how it begins.

 

ii.

Down in King's Landing, one of their favorite bonding activities is laughing at the weaklings that can't go to class in short sleeves in the early autumn. Robb was born in the Riverlands, but all his childhood memories are of summer snows and weirwood trees. Theon is Ironborn, and according to his often ludicruous stories, he was swimming in the cold and windy beaches of Pyke before he even knew how to walk.

They're both well-adjusted to the cold, Robb had thought. Theon would like Winterfell and they would have a blast, he'd thought.

“I feel fucking cheated.” Robb says. They're sitting on the couch nearest to the hearth, and he's rubbing Theon's feet under the three wool blankets he's hiding under because they just won't get warm. It's like he's holding two soft, pedicured blocks of ice. “Betrayed. I had a list of things for us to do.”

Outside, Bran, Arya and the Reed siblings are fighting a violent snowball battle, and he can see Jon helping Rickon build a snowman through the wall length windows. Even the adults more adult than Robb have left the warm coziness of the couch near the fireplace, his father, aunt Lyanna and Mr. Reed to get more logs for the night, his mother to get uncle Edmure from the airport. Only Sansa and her friend whatshername Poole are inside, because they have been following Theon around like two love-sick puppies for the two days he's been here. Robb can hear them giggling from the top of the stairs.

“It's your own fault for being such an outdoorsy person.” Theon smirks, wriggling his toes under Robb's hands. “Should have put hot chocolate and rum on your list.”

“Like hell I'm letting you near anything alcoholic with my mom around.” Robb snorts. He deems Theon's feet sufficiently warm and lets them go with a last little tug on his big toes, but doesn't push them from his lap. “If you hit on anyone in this house, she'll... do... something.”

“Oh, really? Something?” Theon widens his eyes, faking a scared look. His lower lip even wobbles for a second, but then he can't hold the smirk back any longer. His voice sounds husky as he whispers to Robb. “Bummer. I had such plans for us this break...”

He winks at Robb, and they have a good laugh, but Robb's heart is thumping madly in his chest. They've been friends nearly a year now, but he has yet to get used to Theon's casual flirting. One day, maybe, he'll be unaffected, and then it won't be so disappointing when nothing comes of it.

His only comfort is that Theon has this effect on nearly everyone he decides to flirt with, and also some people he deigns unworthy of being hit on for one reason or another. Alys and Olyvar have both confirmed it to him, though they had only taken one week or so of constant exposure to Theon's gorgeous face to develop a resistance that Robb still lacks.

Maybe it’s a Stark thing, Robb supposes. A genetic disposition that makes them more susceptible to that particular brand of magnetic charm Theon exudes. Aunt Lyanna and Sansa had both said he was quite handsome, and even Arya had begrudgingly agreed.

As if on cue, descending the stairs to prove his unspoken point, the girlish laughter that has been their background soundtrack so far grows louder and closer. From the corner of his eye, Robb spies a lock of Sansa's copper hair as she ducks back behind the doorway.

“Thank Gods she's not interested in going hunting with Dad and the uncles later today. The deer would hear her ten miles away.” Robb whispers. He doesn't want to ridicule his sister and her friend, but he's getting tired of it. One of the best things about bringing Theon home with him had been the possibility of not sharing him with his groupies all the time, but apparently new groupies had found him.

“Are we going? It sounds really  _macho_ and all, but I'm not sure I won't fall on my face with my limbs being frozen.” Theon says.

“We'll wrap some newspaper around your feet and hands, under your clothes. It'll be fine.” Robb says, ignoring Sansa and her friend arguing in whispers just around the corner. He holds one of Theon's feet again, satisfied to feel it's still warm. “My uncle Benjen works further North, and he swears by it.”

“That's what I've been reduced to.” Theon snorts. He points to the bright orange scarf around his neck, the one he had been forced to borrow from Robb almost as soon as they had arrived. “Terrible pumpkin clothes and newspaper. You Northerns are evil.”

“Hey! That's my favorite scarf! I've had it since I was five.” Robb teases. He had always hated and fought against any piece of clothing going around his neck, to his mother's chagrin. This scarf was especially scratchy in all its woolly glory, but it was the only thing Theon had pronounced warm enough for the Northern winter.

“I figured.” Theon says. “Not that your fashion sense has changed much from your five-year-old self's, but it feels well worn.”

“Oh, speaking about my shitty fashion sense,” Robb says, jumping from the couch suddenly and unearthing a protesting Theon from his nest of blankets. “Come, I have something for you!”

“What? More of your clothes? I thought we were friends.” Theon moans, but follows Robb soon enough, after recovering his blankets and putting one of them around his shoulders. They drag their feet, giving Sansa and her friend time to retreat upstairs.

The girls, however, don't take the chance. They are going down the stairs when Robb and Theon cross the doorway, and stop at the bottom, blocking their passage. Sansa looks calm and collected, her friend a little flushed. They seem innocent, like they weren't spying on them two minutes ago.

“Hi, guys.” Sansa starts, smiling coquettishly. Robb knows for a fact she had practicedthat smile in the mirror the first time Joffrey Baratheon spent the holydays with them.

“Hello, ladies.” Theon smiles back. It's a charming one, but Robb can read the amusement in the corner of his lips. “Not up to playing in the snow today?”

“Oh, we prefer to stay indoors. It's way too cold.” Sansa says, pretending this is not a mild winter by their standards. Her friend is avoiding looking at Theon directly, like the sight of him is too much, and Robb feels an unexpected kinship with her in that moment. “And how are you? Gotten used to the weather yet?”

The answer is a resounding no, and anyone can see it just by looking at the blanket Theon is dragging with him. Even so, Theon smiles in that disarming way he has, shrugs and waves a hand around.

“Sure, sure. It's basically Dorne at this point.” He winks at them.

Robb knows Theon is funny, hilarious even, though not everyone can appreciate his sense of humor, and the fact that he has almost no filter for age and occasion doesn't endear him to many people either. But as far as it goes, this one is weak, just Theon's attempt at being polite and making small talk with his friend's little sister.

Sansa and her friend giggle like they've never heard anything funnier.

Robb can feel all that's left of his goodwill disappearing with every laugh, and even Theon seems surprised by their exaggerated reaction. He snorts into his hand, fakes a cough, and Robb kicks his ankle, maybe harder than he deserves, to make him get a hold of himself.

It's Sansa's friend who recovers first, to Robb's surprise.

“We were going to make some hot cocoa.” She says very quietly, and freezes like a deer caught in headlight when Theon turns his attention to her. She pauses, then stutters. “I me-mean, if... if you wanted so-some...”

“Great idea, Jeyne!” Sansa exclaims. She holds Jeyne's hand and squeezes it, but she addresses Theon next. “Mom has a recipe, you'll love it. Do you think we still have nutmeg, Robb?”

His sister turns to him, and what she sees on his face makes her smile fade a bit. Suddenly, everybody's attention is on him too, and he makes himself breath deeply and smile. It feels forced on his face, artificial, and it must look so too, because Theon snorts again, loudly and unmistakable for what it is.

“Are you alright there, Robb?” Sansa asks. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit? Jeyne and I can keep Theon company.”

Robb is about to say something he will regret later, when he is less blinded by homicidal rage, but thankfully Theon grabs his arm and starts dragging him upstairs, forcing the girls to flatten themselves, one against the wall and the other against the bannister, to get out of their way.

“Don't worry about us, sweetlings.” He says from the top of the stairs. “You can leave our cocoa on the counter for later! Thanks!”

They're in Robb's room before the girls can think to protest.

Theon starts to laugh as soon as they're inside, collapses on Robb's bed. Robb feels like slamming the door, but that would be the same as admitting to Sansa that something is wrong, so he settles for locking it behind him and sitting on his desk chair with a huff.

A pillow hits him in the face, he throws it back and misses, and Theon laughs harder. Robb feels a reluctant smile forming on his own lips, but he does his best to cling to his annoyance.

“It's not funny, squidman!” He screams. All the pillows are near Theon, so he throws the old dog plush sitting on the desk at his face. It's the softest thing around.

Theon grabs it in the air, easily, and addresses it with a mocking tone. “Squidman, huh? How am I ever to recover from this burn, kids’ toy found in a grown man's bedroom?”

This time, Robb can't help but join in on the laughter. Theon has eerie calming powers, and they never fail to pull Robb back from his worst rages effortlessly. He shakes his head, gets up and starts rummaging through his closet, his back to Theon.

“It's still not funny.” He says, more out of habit than because he needs to win the argument. It's a new feeling, but he doesn't mind losing to Theon as much as he minds losing to other people, and can even concede a point when Theon is being reasonable, rare an occurrence as it is.

“Ah, but it is. Drowned  _God_ , you're such an older brother.” He says, sounding almost wistful for a fleeting moment. “Can't share your toys with your siblings without having an aneurysm. You looked like you were in physical pain downstairs.”

“I've shared plenty of toys with my siblings over the years, Theon, I'm not that bad. Is it so wrong to want something just to myself? That one you're holding is only mine still because I hid it under the floorboards at one point.” Robb stops his search to complain properly. He goes to the bed, sits at Theon's feet. “Bran had a phase when he would break in all of my shoes for me. Do you know how fucking annoying it is to have everyone trying to inherit your stuff before you've even started using it? ”

“Can't say that I sympathize, being on the inheriting end of the spectrum.” Theon snorts, shrugging like he's banishing a stubborn thought from his head. “Then again, my brothers dressed like hobos and I couldn't wait to stop getting their shit, though I just ended up trading their hand me downs for stranger's. Your siblings, on the other hand, think everything you touch turns to gold, friends included.”

“There is that.” Robb agrees, though he thinks his sister's fascination with Theon has little to do with their friendship. “But you're not a toy to be passed around. You're my fucking guest. Sansa needs to get a grip.”

“Wow, aren't you my hero.” Theon snickers, petting the plush on its head absent-mindedly. The care of the act looks ill-fitting with Theon's usual harshness, but Robb is learning to reconcile these little contradictions. “I'm not offended. Just let her be. Isn't it normal to have a crush on your older brother's friends, after all?”

Something inside Robb protests at the words. A crush. It sounds awful spoken aloud like that. “She's met plenty of my friends before and didn't act like this.”

“Well, I am quite irresistible, as you know.” Theon smirks, wiggles his eyebrows in an exagerated manner to make Robb laugh.

“All too well.” He rolls his eyes, tries to sound annoyed, amused, anything but so longing and fond, but his voice betrays him.

There is a beat of silence, and Theon looks at him with a strange expression, black eyes searching for something on Robb's face, amusement giving away to a quiet sort of wonder. Robb coughs, not to break the moment as such, but because he suddenly can't swallow properly, can't breath. His cheeks are growing hot.

“Did you?” He asks, voice high. Seeing the confusion on Theon's face, he explains. “Did you have a crush on you brothers' friends?”

Theon's laughter is a howl, he finds the suggestion that ridiculous. Robb waits patiently until he's done and arches an inquiring eyebrow.

“My brothers' friends are as lovely as them, and as concerned about personal hygiene.” He says, still petting the plush with deft, long fingers. Then he gives Robb a shy little smile. “Asha's friend, Tris Botley. He liked my sister, though, and they dated for maybe two months before she kicked him to the curb. Broke my little pre-teen heart.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” Robb says, smiling. Close-mouthed but sincere. He had suspected, for some time, that Theon might like men too, but to hear it spoken of so candidly and easily is something else altogether.

It is not done, here in the North. Not talked about. Robb has always only had his own thoughts, the internet, furtive encounters in the locker room after football practice, the act of tiptoing around people who might be like him oh, so carefully, least you become the butt of everybody's joke. The only out gay man Robb knows is Hother Umber, who is ancient and a little scary. Not someone a boy questioning their sexuality might turn to for advice.

Maybe it is different in the Iron Islands, or maybe Theon is just that brave. Robb doesn't know, but suddenly he's dying to tell him about his own childhood crushes, short-lived and feeble as they were. If he could only make the words leave his mouth; but they are stuck.

“You should be, making me remember such depressing things.” Theon goes on, oblivious to Robb's struggle. “It's very cruel of you.”

“I can make it up to you. Wait here.” Robb says. He gets up from the bed under Theon's curious gaze, walks to the closet and starts searching for the package again. He got it so long ago, before even inviting Theon over, that he can't remember where he asked his mother to hide it.

He lets out a victory cry when he finds it at last, lifts it over his head triumphantly. Theon startles on the bed, and Robb laughs at him. He approaches, hand outstretched, suddenly feeling nervous.

“You got me a gift?” Theon says, kneeling on the bed. He accepts the wrapped package with a genuine smile. “Thanks! But what for?”

“Crossing Day.” Robb says. Theon just looks confused; Robb sighs. “We're celebrating it today, remember? I told you it's a Northern holyday, you said...”

“That it's a waste to have a holyday during vacation.” Theon finishes for him. “I do know, but you never said people exchanged gifts! I'd have bought you something! You made it sound like it was all about hunting in the forest and making fires.”

“It is, mostly. Well, people usually do the hunting part in the supermarket aisle now, my family is just very traditional about some things.” Robb admits, rubbing the back of his head. Theon finally left the dog plush alone, and is now petting the gift Robb gave him, looking content to leave it unopened. “Some people give gifts too, to remember how the last Lord Commander gave The Gift to the Free Folk after they crossed. My family doesn't anymore because... well, let's just say uncle Brandon is not allowed to drink at family gatherings anymore.”

“Oh, Robb, are you breaking the family rules for me? I'm flattered.” Theon winks at him again, then turns to the gift with much more enthuiasm. “Can I open it now? It's rude to open presents in front of the people who gave them to you in the Islands, but I've never been terribly polite. Plus, we're not in the Islands.”

“We're not in the Islands.” Robb agrees, feels his stomach dance in anticipation. “Knock yourself out. Just, please, do it quickly; if my siblings find out I didn't get them anything but did for you, I'll never hear the end of it.”

Theon tears into the wrapping paper Robb agonized over mercilessly. Robb looks away, giving Theon some time to compose himself in case he doesn't like it, because he knows he won't like seeing the look on his face if it shows disgust or disappointment.

He has never before spent so much effort in a gift, much less to end up settling for a simple shirt. Well, not simple, because that shit was expensive, and is one of a kind, apparently, by some designer from Tyrosh who sews every little detail into the cloth herself. It's also made of Myrish silk, cool and soft to the touch, so fine even Robb's unfashionable ass knew it was high quality when he had first touched it. Surely Theon, closeted fashionista that he is, will appreciate that, at least.

Robb had only really discovered how high quality the shirt was when he got home to Winterfell, though, because he had ordered it online while he was in King's Landing at uni. He'd sent Theon's measurements, chosen a model and color he thought would look good on him and hoped for the best.

“It looks hand-sewed...” Theon whispers. “It's so soft...”

Robb dares to look at him, and is delighted to see Theon rubbing the shirt on his face with a look of utter happiness. The dark blue matches his complexion well, as Robb suspected it would.

“Do you like it, then?” He smiles, wanting to hear it confirmed out loud.

“Must you fish for more thanks, Stark? I love it, obviously.” Theon snorts. He puts the shirt on his lap, rubs it between his fingers some more. “It's the finest thing I've ever touched, for sure. I can't believe...” he finishes in a quiet whisper.

“Go on then, try it on.” Robb urges. He's very satisfied with himself, seeing the contentment shining in Theon's eyes. “See if it fits.”

“Oh, it will fit.” Theon vows. “Even if I have to pull a Baelor the Blessed here and lose a few dozen pounds.”

He gets up from the bed and gives his back to Robb, discarding the blanket and scarf, and then the heavy sweater he's wearing. Robb takes the opportunity to throw a pillow on his head, and he doesn't miss, this time.

“Let's leave starvation as a last resort, okay? We can always find a tailor.” He says, slightly alarmed.

But their worry is unfounded, because the shirt is just the little bit too large. Theon declares it perfect, though, and refuses to take it off when they go downstairs again. Robb is grinning so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt. Not even the sight of just the one cup of cocoa cooling on the counter, a little note with Theon's name on it making very clear for whom it is, spoils his good mood.

“Ouch. Guess you're no longer the favorite around here.” Theon says. He takes a sip of the dark, heavy drink and moans appreciatively. Then he offers the cup to Robb with a shit-eating grim. “My gift for you, on this lovely Crossing Day.”

Robb accepts the cup with a snort. “How generous of you.”

They share what is left slowly, both leaning on the counter with shoulders brushing and breathes mingling.

 

iii

Theon is found of leaving little notes in Robb's stuff.

Some are serious, some practical, more often than not they're just plain silly and funny. More than once Robb opened his books in class to find a scathing comment on his required reading. He found others in his laptop, his pockets, and once there was one in his sneakers that read:

 

_Roses are red,_

_I own three handguns,_

_These shoes are fugly,_

_You should get new ones._

 

Because Robb is a hopeless idiot, he kept this note, despite the insult to his fashion sense and the vague threat to his person. He kept the other ones too, secretly and with an embarassing amount of care, gluing one in each page of the fancy journal his mother gave him for appointments, in her own words.

Yet, for all the undue attention he pays Theon on any given day, Robb has never caught him in the act. The notes just appear when he least expects them, in Theon's square and unmistakeable hand, to brighten his lousy days and make the good ones better. He might be a little enamoured of them.

They spend a fair amount of time together, and Theon has plenty of opportunity to slip the notes into Robb's things unnoticed. They grab lunch together whenever they can, or have breakfeast in the coffe house down the main road or in one of the canteens; they hang out in each other's dorms and outside of campus. They often go throught each other's books and notebooks freely when they need something or when they're bored, and they have the (bad, according to Robb's parents) habit of sharing the odd clothes that fit both of them. At this point, Theon knows almost as much as Robb about corporate law, and Robb has laid claim to a blue beanie that is actually not warm enough to wear in any kind of weather that would demand a hat.

They're in the library, though it's a Cronday, when Theon finally slips.

Robb has his last final in three days, and so has foregone frivolous things such as sleep and a shower in favour of revising. Theon is the only friend of his who has not let shortness and body smells chase him off yet, and is guarding their table while Robb goes outside to answer a call from his mother and reassure her that yes, he's really taking care of himself, don't worry, he'll be done soon.

Technically, Theon doesn't need to be here. The library is infested with Law and Medicine students camping out in inconspicuous nooks, but he is a Music major, going through the motions of a minor in Business at his sister's relentless prodding. The one Art History class they shared for all of two hot minutes in their first year had been extra credit. That is to say, Theon is done with his finals, and has been for some time now. He could have been free.

So Robb feels a sudden rush of affection for him swell in his chest when he drags himself back inside to see Theon glaring at another student who seems to be trying to steal Robb's seat. The sun filtering through the window next to their table hits the back of his head and bathes his face in shadows, sharpens the angles of his cheekbones and makes him seem darker and dangerous.

The student looks scared, but persists. Robb can hear his nervousness as he approaches.

“– it's only fair, man, this place has been empty for ove–”

“Fuck off already, you sorry excuse of an earworm.” Theon cuts the boy off with a chuckle. There's something mean about the sound, but Robb is mesmerized all the same. “The armchair is taken. If you're so dense you can't even get that simple a concept, you should spend more time studying and less time being a pain in my ass.”

The boy opens his mouth, drags a hand through his hair, closes his mouth with a click. He makes a move like he's going to throw himself in the seat, but Theon puts his boots up in it before he can, crosses his ankles and his arms like he's daring the boy to make it a real fight. The arched eyebrow is just the finishing touch.

Robb “accidentally” bumps shoulders with him on his way to the armchair. The guy almost falls, face first into the corner of the table, then sighs in defeat and turns tail when Robb dislodges Theon's feet casually and drops them onto the cushion.

“Maybe that was a bit much.” Robb says, remorseless. He doesn't know if he doesn't have the energy to worry about the feeling of the stranger trying to steal his seat, or if he just doesn't care one way or another. Perhaps he's too sleep-deprived to waste brain-power on it, or perhaps college-life is simply sucking him dry of any empathy or human emotion he once had.

Theon shrugs. “Who cares? If he wanted one of the good spots, he should have arrived earlier.”

“It's still pretty early.” Robb argues just to be contrary. He goes back to the heavy tome he was reading prior to his short pause, but Theon stops him before he can start.

“Actually, it's half-past three.” He smirks.

Robb can only blink at him for a moment.

“What?” He asks, too loudly. People around them shush him, and Theon laughs at Robb's embarrassed scowl. “Seriously? I don't believe you.”

“Do you believe in clocks?” Theon asks, grabbing his phone from the bag at his feet and showing Robb the screen. The numbers 15:32 glow white over the image of a manatee hugging a shark.

Robb drops his head with a thump on the table and moans.

“Ugh, I've been here for over thirty hours.” He cries. Though he is overcaffeinated, he's finding it hard to get his head up again. The table in smooth and very comforable, and it gets worse when Theon starts petting his head. “I must have slept with my eyes open.”

“Wow, dude, that's a greasy hair situation you've got going here.” His voice travels to Robb's ear in a soothing whisper. A lullaby of mockery leading Robb into sleep, except he's rudely awakened when Theon throws something at his head. “Here, eat this.”

“Why, Gods?” Robb says, lifts his head and frowns at a bar of his favorite chocolate in front of him. “How?”

“I smuggled it in, obviously.” Theon keeps his voice down, probably because having chocolate in the library is forbidden, and they had had a whole presentation on it and other rules back on welcome week, freshman year. “If you insist on staying up, you either need to eat or to do some drugs, and chocolate is as far as I'll go in shady business.”

Robb snorts, lifts his chest and arms from the table slowly and opens the package. He starts eating it block by block, taking the pieces to his mouth while hiding the bar under the table. Surprisingly, his mood starts to improve with every bite. Theon nods approvingly, opens one of Robb's abandoned notebooks and starts doodling.

“I might actually need space to write something one day, you know.” Robbs teases him.

“The last thing you wrote down is dated four months ago, beginning of the semester.” Theon says. He snorts, then reads what is written out loud. “'Trial by combat should be brought back if the prosecutor is annoying.' Drowned God, you take this class well and serious, huh?”

“Hey, it's a legitimate suggestion!” Robb all but yells, then cringes when people shush him again, more emphatically than the last time. “Who wouldn't want to deck that Tarly guy?”

“Oh, really? Did you dare bring it up to your professor?” Theon laughs. Even more people shush him, but he is uncaring and stops only at his own time. Robb is tempted to join him, is swallowing a few chuckles of his own, when the boy from before comes back to stand a few feet from them, arms crossed.

“If the two of you don't want to study, you should leave and let those of us who do want to, do so in peace.” He crosses his arms, trying to look intimidating, no doubt. “Stop, or I'll inform Mr. Perestan.”

Theon sniggers, rolling his eyes, but Robb holds his hand over the table, trying to signal that there's no need to spill blood just yet. He turns to the boy with a smile he hopes is disarming. That chocolate is already having a good effect on him.

“Sorry, man. We'll keep it down.” He says, nodding slightly.

The guy doesn't seem too mollified, but he nods back and disappears behind a stand. Theon follows his progress with a sharp smirk.

“Is he standing around corners trying to bust us up?” He asks. “You'd think the guy has never seen a chair or something.”

“It's a very comfy chair.” Robb says. Then he throws the empty chocolate package in his direction, but it falls harmlessly on the table between them. “Now stop distracting me.”

“You've studied enough.” Theon says. “You need a shower, and rest.”

“I don't have time for that. The library closes in a few hours and I can't take this book home.” Robb explains.

Maybe it's implicit he'll keep studying at his dorm, or maybe Theon just knows him too well. Either way he frowns a little hearing it. Robb would say he looks worried, but that is the lack of sleep talking, for sure.

“Make sure to book at least eight hours of sleep before your test.” He says, but goes back to doodling without further complaint, which is a minor miracle in itself.

Robb counts himself lucky it stops at that and goes back to reading. The book in front of him is ancient, a copy of a compilation of some of the first written contracts between the regions of Westeros. It's so old they were kingdoms back them, and a few texts date from before the Andals arrived. The language is dense, complicated, has many unecessary flourishes, and even with the chocolate in his stomach lending him some energy, it's going slow. He takes notes now and then, though soon he forgets what is the purpose of reading this, and starts to get immersed in the text.

A part of him, the part that loves history and likes to read, doesn't think this is so bad. The part of him that didn't want to study Law at all and is exhausted, is praying for an interruption, for the chair guy to come back, for the energy in the building to be cut, for anything, really.

As always, Theon delivers. His gasp is quiet in the hushed silence of the library. No one shushes him this time, but Robb is close, and his focus is broken even by that soft a sound. He lifts his head, already smiling, a teasing word on the tip of his tongue.

It dies when he sees his journal in Theon's hand.

There's a piece of paper between his middle and ring fingers, folded like a star. He was slipping me a note, Robb realizes. For two seconds, he feels a complete sense of calm and happines seeing it, and then reality comes crashing down and his heart starts drumming a furious rhythm inside his chest.

Theon looks shocked and a little flustered. It's a new look on him, but lovely. His mouth hangs slightly open, his black eyes are huge. Robb waits with baited breath as he turns a page and then another, finally closes the journal and caresses the spine gently before putting it down on the table, between them.

There's something vulnerable in his eyes when he looks at Robb. A painful waiting haunting his expression.

Robb looks at him too, knowing he must be an iridescent pink by now, and dares to hope. He tries to say something, the words get stuck in his throat as always. But Theon waits him out, still looking frail and small, somehow. So he tries again, for Theon's sake. Thinks that every single thing Theon says to him is special and worthy of keeping, that his words always mean so much to him and it makes Robb stupidly happy to have them.

He says: “This is _not_ compromissing evidence.”

Theon's face splits into a genuine smile, which he sees before dropping his head into his hands. He wants the earth to swallow him whole.

“Robb. Robbie.” Theon calls. “Look at me, you giant, silly strawberry. Stop this, I think all of your blood is in your face by now.”

“Promise me you won't make a joke.” He says, face still between his hands. “I know it's your M.O., but keep in mind I might die.”

He hears Theon chuckle, and then his answer. “I'll try. For you.”

Slowly, he looks up. There's a smile in the corner of Theon's mouth, but it's not mocking; it's rather sweet. Something in Robb's chest unravels at the sight of it.

“I'm sorry.” He says. “I don't usually carry that around with me.” He must have brought it by mistake in his hurry to get to the library.

“It's alright.” Theon whispers. He shakes his head, puts his hand on the journal again and lets it rest there. “I didn't know you kept them. Some are just embarassing, I thought you'd have a laugh and throw them out.”

“It's more embarassing to keep them.” He admits, because he knew it was true even as he treasured each one. Keeping a note that's asking someone to snore less, just because your friend-slash-secret-crush wrote it is sad, by anyone's standards. “Please, just forget what I said about it, I'm... completely exhausted, my brain is mush right now. I don't even know what I'm doing at this point.”

Robb wants to explain it better; he can't have Theon thinking Robb considers keeping the notes something to be ashamed of, something _compromising_. Embarrassing, yes, definitely something he'd rather enjoy without having to justify it to anyone, but not shameful.

He's not ashamed of wanting Theon.

He's fearful, though, of how much he can lose. Who he can lose. Has always been. And his chest aches for a moment, as Theon face visibly falls hearing his words, but Robb doesn't have time to react. Theon recovers quickly, smiles an empty grin and lets go of the journal like it's dirty.

“Well, I guess you'd know a thing or two about embarrassing things.” Theon laughs. “Though you might want to learn how to will it away soon. Us fags need to have thicker skin than that.”

A punch would have been gentler, Robb thinks, but he's not really surprised.

Theon goes back to his drawing, very paupably ignoring Robb, but Robb can't go back to studying with this strange tension between them.

“Look.” Robb says, and stops. He can't seem to gather his thoughts, even as Theon looks at him expectantly. The silence streches between them, until Theon huffs and rolls his eyes.

“We don't have to talk about it, Robbie.” A sigh, then he pinches the bridge of his nose, hard, like the conversation is causing him a headache. “Let's... forget about this, I got it, I'll respect your Northern sensibilities from now on and stop hitting on you, end of story.”

“Hitting on me?” Robb yells, beyond shocked. He barely registers people glaring at him, because somehow he's slipped into a parallel universe where Theon Greyjoy hits on him. “Where? When? When did it happen?”

Theon stares at Robb with a frozen smirk and waves his hands around. It's a confusing experience for Robb, causing the resurfacing of Theon's outraged face. Usually he's a mere witness whenever it appears.

“Let's see... everywhere? All the time, for over a year?” He whispers. “You tell me, dude, you were there every time. You flirted back!”

Robb sags in his chair, incredulous. His mouth moves into a smile without his permission, and his heart goes back to a frenzied beat when Theon returns it, slowly.

“I hadn't... I hadn't realized. Theon, I...” He gulps, stops talking as he recalls the long list of innuendos, double-entendres and ambiguous jokes, all the sweet gestures, and sees everything under a new light. “I'm an idiot.”

Theon snorts. “Not an idiot, just pure as the driven snow, apparently. Despite what your internet history might indicate.”

Robb laughs. It sets Theon off, and soon they're both cackling in the library like a pair of hens, Theon with his contagious laughter and Robb with his sporadic oinks. He can't help it, he closes his eyes as tears start to fall. When he opens them again, Mr. Perestan is looming over their table, the guy who wanted his chair next to him with a victorious look in his face.

“Chocolate, disturbing your fellow students... gentlemen, I think it's time you both go home for today.” The librarian says in his deep voice.

There's no argument to be had, so they gather Robb's stuff and put the books for consulting-only on the devolution table. Theon smiles and apologizes to Mr. Perestan for bringing the chocolate, says he forgot it was forbidden, but makes a point to pull a face at the chair guy before they go, as soon as Mr. Perestan looks away.

“He's looking for a beating.” He says when they are outside. “Someone will give it to him someday.”

Robb shrugs, drying his tears with his sweater. He doesn't mind not being the one to kick the guy's ass, and he is guessing Theon doesn't either, or he'd be on it already. In all honesty, he's kind of glad they got kicked out, because now he has an excuse to take a break from studying for however long he has before getting to his dorm.

Turns out it's not that long, because Theon insists on giving him a ride on his scooter, but Robb takes comfort in hugging him all the way there, at least. They park right in front of Robb's door, and he lets go of Theon's waist reluctantly. He sways a little getting to his feet, and Theon insists on carrying one of his backpacks upstairs.

“I didn't get you all the way here just for you to brain yourself on the stairs.” He says, winking.

Robb agrees with a nod and a smile, far too tired to argue over such petty things. Theon is maybe two or three inches taller, and also lean and muscular, but Robb is the strongest between them by far. Only his body is heavy with exhaustion, and he's getting to the point where his hand-eye coordination is going to shit. He will have to take a cold shower to wake up a little before he resumes studying.

It's four flights of stairs to his floor, and the elevator is out of order, as always. By the last flight, Theon is guiding him with a hand on the small of his back to stop him from knocking into walls. When they finally arrive at Robb's door, he gives Theon a grateful smile.

“You're a lifesaver.” He says. “And I don't mean just right now. Everybody eles ran off by my fourth cup of coffee.”

“Don't mention it, man.” Theon smiles back. “Finals weed out the weak. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Later.” Robb echoes, and watches him go until the top of his head disappears down the stairs. He doesn't mean just to see Theon later, though he will. Later they'll talk, and maybe flirt. Maybe later Robb will manage to tell Theon how he really feels.

Later they might be something.

The prospect fills Robb with a sudden, bubbly sort of energy. He watches Theon take off on his scooter throught his window, a stupid smile on his face until Theon is just a dot on the horizon. He laughs, alone in the bedroom, and dumps his things on Olyvar's empty bed. He eats a candy bar that was sitting on his night stand, splashes cold water on his faces and prepares for another round of studying while he's still feeling energized.

Only Theon took off with his books. He never gave back the backpack he carried upstairs, just went away with it, and Robb didn't even notice. He opens the backpack he did bring inside, but it's just snacks, a bottle of water, his wallet and phone, a warmer jacket. His journal.

Robb takes it, the leather binding soft in his hand, and looks at it fondly. He throws it on his bed to get his phone, might be that Theon is willing to bring his books back if he calls soon enough, when something peaking from inside the pages grabs his attention.

It's a piece of paper folded into a star. Unfolded, it reads:

 

_You can't ace your exams if you fall sleep on them._

 

Robb sighs. Then he glues the note carefully to a blank page on the journal, puts it away, and lays down on his bed.

He's asleep before he can think to take his fugly shoes off.

 

iv.

“You're my fucking soulmate, man.” Robb hiccups into his plastic cup. It smells like cheap beer, which he hates, but people keep giving him new cups whenever he finishes one, and he feels bad about refusing them, since people already went to the trouble. If he doesn't drink, people ask him why isn't he drinking, is everything alright Robb, are you having fun? He doesn't want to be rude. His mother always said to accept what the host gives you gracefully.

“What, the beer?” Theon yells over the music. He has that look on his face, the sly one that means he finds something he shouldn't amusing. It looks good on him, like everything else, the son of a bitch.

“What the fuck, Theon? Is beer even a man? Does it have a soul? Of course not, it's fucking beer!” Robb yells back, frowning. He feels upset Theon didn't get it at once. It weakens his theory a little. “You are my soulmate! You! Youyouyou.”

Theon laughs, the sound warming Robb from the inside.

“Gay.” He deadpans. He sounds like he wants it to sound mad, or mean, but for once he fails. He smiles softly at Robb. “How come?”

“Because we're the same.” Robb says. At Theon's puzzled look, he thinks how to explain it better, makes expanding motions with his hands and ends up throwing half his beer on Patreck Mallister's shirt. Thank gods the guy is passed out at this point. “We're like... a hive mind.”

“We're a hive mind?!” Theon repeats, incredulous. His smirk is thin and his shoulders shake, and Robb knows he's trying not to laugh in his face until he gets to the bottom of Robb's train of thought. “We're bees?”

“Yes! Because... listen. I have thoughts on this.” Robb says. He puts his cup on the floor, by Patreck's face, and drags himself to Theon's side, where he had wanted to sit anyway since the beginning. They're at opposite points of a circle on the floor, or they were, until everybody else took off and the circle dissolved, leaving only Patreck asleep, Alys and her boyfriend making out and oblivious to the world, and Theon and Robb having a very important talk.

“I have had these thoughts very much, a lot of times. We're bees.” Robb says, whispers, really, because now he is close enough to Theon that they don't have to yell over the music. “We always think the same thing at the same time. Except when we don't, like when we had two different conversations that time in the library, but that was just once. It's more like,” he pauses, licks his lips and takes Theon's face in his hand and caresses his check carefully, trying not to spook him. “You always, always get me, okay? Maybe we're not bees, we're some animal that sends brainwaves to the world, or pheromones – anything, you know? And there's other animals that hear it, they smell it, but they don't understand.”

Theon has his mouth hanging open in shock, and his face is pink and warm to the touch, but Robb can see he got it in the tilt of his eyebrow. He might be more shocked that he gets it than about being bees together with Robb, he thinks.

“You got all that from me refusing to drink more of this shitty beer?” Theon asks, laughing. “Oh, Robbie. You're sooooo wasted. Stop drinking before I have to drag your perky little ass to the hospital.”

Robb is happy Theon made the right leap to figure out how this conversation came to be, but he moans at the mention of drinking.

“I can't fucking stop!” He cries. Suddenly there's actual tears in his eyes, that's how desperate he is. “I can't fucking escape this fucking beer! When I finally finish drinking the crap, someone brings me more.”

Theon starts laughing so hard hearing this he ends up laying in a fetal position on the floor holding his belly, eyes shut tight. Robb lays by his side, puts his less dirty hand back on Theon's face until he opens them again.

“You're going to make me piss myself.” Theon moans, breathing hard. He takes one, two, three lungfuls of air before flicking Robb lightly on the forehead. “Just say no, Robb, Drown'  _God_ ! I know you're not a pushover.” He says. Then he turns his head and bites Robb's hand, just a little, until Robb leaves his face alone and starts playing with his black hair instead.

“Easy for you to say, people don't keep bringing you stuff!” Robb complains.

Theon snorts, unimpressed. “Sorry I'm not as popular as you, Miss Congeniality. I'll send the next offender away, don't you worry your pretty red curls.”

“I could totally be Miss Riverrun.” Robb grins at Theon, and Theon starts laughing again. Not as hard as before, but he still massages his belly like it hurts. “Only I'd knock out Margaery Tyrell on the first try and the bad guy would blow everything up.”

“Tragic but accurate.” Theon says. He's drunk, but not nearly as much as Robb, because when he had said, 'no, thanks, I'm more of a wine man', the girl offering had giggled and listened to him.

Of course, then she had sat down and tried to flirt with him for two hours, like she had never met a man who drank wine before. Robb's blood boils just thinking about it. It was Alys who had taken pity on her at last.

“Don't mind Theon, he's just an attention whore, he doesn't mean anything by it. And he's probably got whiskey cock anyway.” She had said, and the girl had left, mortified.

“And who's gonna pay attention to me now, Karstark?” Theon had complained, smirking. But he didn't need to worry, because she was only the first of many girls to approach him that night.

“I hate this fucking party.” Robb says. He tugs at Theon's hair a bit, just to hear him huff indignantly. “Why are we even here? We're not pledged to any stupid frat.”

Theon shrugs, as much as someone can shrug lying on their side.

“I suppose it's a rite of passage. We're real college-man, now, after putting it off for almost two years.” Then he snickers, leans more into Robb's space, conspiratory. “Thank the Drowned God we're not some Essossi letter. Can you imagine living in the same house as that Baratheon guy?”

“Ugh. Tell me about it.” Robb says. He's more or less okay even after drinking a fuckton of beer, but thinking about Joffrey's face is enough to make his stomach protest. “Our fathers are friends, believe it or not. Once I went camping with him.”

“What!” Theon screams in Robb's face, like he can't comprehend such a thing. “Ouch. My bad.” He says, pats Robb's cheek in apology when he cringes.

“I'll forgive you because you're hot.” Robb sighs, leans into Theon's space too until they're sharing the same foul smelling breath. That fucking disgusting beer keeps ruining his night. “Can we leave now? I feel manly enough already.”

Theon blinks lazily at him, then laughs.

“Really? You feel manly enough right after calling another dude hot?” He smirks. “I mean, who could deny it? But still.”

“Can we?” Robb insists. He tugs a bit more on Theon's hair, grabs the ends and drags it across the bridge of Theon's nose.

Theon bats his hand away, huffs to get the hair out of his face. It flies around for a moment, tickles Robb's nose and lands in the exact same place it was before.

“No, we can't. The DD is making out right next to us, see?” He point at Alys, who at this point has Daryn's hands down her shirt. They're completely shameless, though supposedly sober, but then again, everyone around is doing the same or more, so what does Robb know? “One more thing: gay.” Theon deadpans again, and then cracks up.

“Oh, I'm just getting started.” Robb says with a grin full of teeth when Theon is done laughing. He can almost hear Theon gulping from this distance, even with the music shaking the whole house, and he can see Theon's black eyes getting all languid and sultry. It won't be the first time they hook up, but it will be the first time Theon is the almost-but-not-quite sober one.

Theon smiles like he is inviting Robb closer and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can start, someone approaches them with two cups of beer and smiles down at Robb.

“Hey.” Jeyne Westerling says, shy and syrup-sweet.

Theon snickers, and Robb tries to kick him inconspicuously. Jeyne is a nice girl, and Robb likes her, and they always share class notes and she is nice, even if he wants to weep at the sight of the beer. He sits up too quickly as Jeyne sits down, and then he pulls Theon up by the arm.

“Hey.” Robb says. He tries his best to look like he isn't drunk, wasn't laying on the dirty floor with his soulmate, wasn't about to jump Theon's bones after eons of thinking about it. Jeyne reminds him of his mom and his sisters all rolled into one tiny, nice, clean package. She must be the only composed person at the whole party.

“I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, Robb. What are you guys up to?” She smiles at the both of them, but offers one of the cups only to Robb. He is already half-way to grabbing it mournfully when Theon yanks his arm back.

“Sorry, I'm cutting him off before he vomits all over us, sweetling.” He smiles at Jeyne, a fake, angry turn of lips. “We're just discussing how Robb is gay for me, you know, the usual. What are  _you_ up to, Janei?”

Jeyne starts smiling uncertainly. Most people can't discern when Theon is only joking and when he's being an asshole on purpose, but she seems to be leaning towards the latter, rightfully so. Robb vaguely thinks about correcting Theon, he knows for a fact that Theon knows Jeyne's name, and he suspects Jeyne knows he knows too, but his stomach begins to turn with all the shitty alcohol he's been drinking all night and this blasted conversation. He should have gotten up a bit more slowly.

“Oh, you know. Studying, a bit of fun here and there.” Jeyne finally says, after a long, uncomfortable silence. She's red as an apple, and she talks down to her cup instead of looking at them. “I have to get going now. Nice to see you, Robb.”

She sprints from the room, almost steps on Patreck, and is gone before he can react. But maybe that's good, since he doesn't really know what to do. He turns to Theon, who is looking very satisfied with himself, trying to decide what to say. Maybe scold him for being mean to Jeyne, or tell him off for telling her Robb is gay when he knows very well he isn't out to everybody yet.

Mostly he is angry he had to watch Theon flirt and wink at girls all night and when one harmless person tries to talk to Robb, Theon didn't even consider sitting through it before sending Jeyne running. And he's angry his anger all but dissipates when Theon smiles at him smugly.

“You were starting something, I believe?” He whispers, leaning forward. It's such a smooth move that Robb feels dizzy.

Nauseous, even.

He tries to turn away when his drunk brain register what is happening, but Theon has already put a hand to his neck and holds him in place. It's all Robb can do to throw up on his fancy stripped dress shirt instead of his face.

Theon doesn't seem all that appreciative of his efforts when Robb recovers enough to look at him, however. If it was anyone else, they'd be rolling on the floor laughing, but it is Theon, and he looks like his soul has left his body, came back and he's still reloading, face completely blank. His hand drops from Robb's neck like someone cut his strings.

“Sorry.” Robb says, sheepishly. There's not much else he can say.

There is a hurt whimper when Robb reaches out to Theon, but slowly, carefully, they manage to take the shirt off of him. Alys and Daryn finally emerge from their make out session when the smell reaches them, and then the four of them grab Patreck and hit the road in Alys' soccer-mom car, all windows down.

Theon is exiled to the corner of the backseat, trying to become one with the door, and Patreck decided to wake up as they were leaving the house and hasn't stopped asking what happened since. No one dares tell him, because Theon has been glaring daggers at anyone who so much as breathes a little louder than he likes.

They stop at Theon's dorm first, because he lives the further away. He thanks Alys and Daryn with a forced cheerfulness that has everybody in the car on edge, then goes all the way around it instead of entering the building, to Robb's window.

“Where is your shirt?” Patreck cries from his place, face perched on Robb's shoulder. “You can't go around half naked, man. You love that shirt, where did you put it?”

The answer is the trash, where Robb put it, but Theon just ignores him, pinning Robb down with a sharp look. “One day, Stark.” He says. The dark smirk on his face has Robb panting, but not from fear. “When you least expect it.”

Then he goes around the car and enters the dorm, slamming the door hard behind him.

“Did Theon really threaten to barf on you?” Daryn asks from the front seat.

“More like promised.” Robb smiles. Alys snorts and starts the car again. Their dorms are close to each other, on the other side of campus, but with the roads empty in the early hours, it's a quick ride.

 

v.

“I know what will make you feel better.” Theon says, kneeling in front of Robb with a decided expression.

From his spot sitting on the floor, nursing a beer, Robb arches an incredulous eyebrow.

“I really don't think I can get it up tonight.” He says, takes another gulp from his bottle. For once, it's the good, expensive brew he likes; a sure sign his friends find him as pathetic as he feels. “Plus, I'm already drinking.”

“That's cute and all, but I'm not molesting your drunk ass.” Theon says, cuts Robb off with a wave of his hand when he tries to say he's not actually drunk, just depressed. Then he shakes a brown paper bag and a empty gym bag in front of Robb's nose. “I'm offering revenge.”

Robb grins and lets Theon sneak him away from his celebratory-turned-consolation party. On their way out, they pass under the banner the debate team freshies wrote for them, and Robb lets the rage in him burn at the sight; it reads:

 

~~Congratulations, UKLDT!~~

Sorry Joffrey Baratheon is rich!

 

“He is a fucking little shit.” He says. Theon nods, and Robb takes that as permission to repeat the whole sordid tale to him, even though Theon already knows, had been in the audience to cheer Robb on. “You'd think he'd buy himself a place on the team like every other rich spoiled brat on the planet. Instead he goes and buys the judges? Against us? We're in the same fucking university! Who does that?”

“Joffrey has issues, Robb. I mean real issues, not the standard daddy issues us mere mortals can boast about.” Theon says, guiding Robb by the hand to the corner where he parked his scooter. “Plus, he's dumb as a brick, hates you and envies you. He took his sweet time to pull some crap, if you ask me.”

“What can he possibly envy on someone like me? I'm a regular person.” Robb says, sitting behind Theon and hugging his torso. Just this simple act calms his anger a little, but he isn't about to tell Theon this.

“I don't know, Robbie. Your brains? Your lucious red hair that doesn't look like instant ramen? The fact that your lips are full without looking like worms? Who cares, he's gonna learn to repress his problems like everybody else today. Hold on tight.” He says and takes off before Robb can say much or ask where they are going and what are they going to do.

The first question is easy enough to answer as soon as Theon parks again, a block away from Joffrey's frat house. Even from this distance it's clear there is a party happening, the whole building seems to shake from the loud dubstep.

“Tacky.” Theon whispers. In his mouth, the word sounds dirty, worse than any swear word Robb knows.

“What are we going to do?” He says. As much as he'd like to punch Joffrey's entire face in, that would be too much. Maybe. Robb tries to think what would his mother say if she was here, if she would disapprove, but all that comes to mind is the time Catelyn tried to claw Cersei Lannister's eyes out. That had been the end of all Stark-Baratheon joined vacations.

“I ordered a keg for the party. We'll wait for it to get here, pay for it and then slip this inside.” He gives Robb the brown bag, and inside there are enough laxatives to save a constipated elephant from any suffering. “Not the most creative trick in the book, but efficient. Here, wear this.”

“I'm all for efficiency.” Robb says, and puts the cap Theon gives him on his head, forcing his curls to cooperate. He watches, fascinated, as Theon pulls a blonde wig from nowhere and puts it on his own head. The last time Robb pranked someone, he was twelve, and he'd only duct-taped a grumpy cat picture to Jon's favorite t-shirt. It had been harmless, innocent and funny. This prank will only be the last item, and only if they can pull it off, but it seems to be getting more elaborate by the second.

The keg arrives before he's ready, and they run to catch the delivery-man. He doesn't bother id-ing them, and Theon signs the receipt as Joffrey Baratheon, pays in cash and has the keg opened and half the pills inside as soon as the man turns around, like it's nothing. All in front of the house, in plain sight of anyone who decided not to mind their own business.

“Calm down.” He tells Robb, reading the nerves on his face. “Pretend you're meant to be here.”

Between the two of them, they carry the keg around the house, to the backyard. There's people mingling there, and they cheer drunkenly when they pass by with the keg. They cheer back, and Robb waits outside while Theon enters the kitchen and jokes around with the people there. When they leave and Theon gives the all clear, Robb gets inside too and locks the door behind him. Then it's easy, and frighteningly quick: Robb replaces the barrel they find with the laced one and throws everything alcoholic he can find down the sink while Theon physically blocks the door and acts as look-out.

“We could have a career as criminals.” Robb mouths, smirking. Theon smiles at him from the door, having read his lips. Even in the kitchen, it's too loud to talk properly. Robb can feel a headache coming, and he doesn't even know if Joffrey will drink from this, but already the thrill is worth it.

“Easy there, man. We're far from done.” Theon says, stepping close, and gives Robb the empty gym bag he had concealed under his jacket. “Now we split. I'll go around and see if there is a bowl of punch or something, you go and get me every single toilet paper in this house.”

“Got it!” Robb says. “Meet you by the scooter in twenty?”

“Deal.” Theon says. He grabs Robb by the arm when he passes and kisses him quickly. When they part, they're both grinning. “Be inconspicuous. If anyone recognizes you, abort mission, okay?”

Robb nods, and off they go.

The house is packed, to the point it's impossible to move fast, but no one gives Robb a second glance. He makes his way to the second floor with the dubstep throbbing in his head, and swipes all the toilet rolls from the bathrooms, then goes to the first floor and does the same.

It's all going swimmingly until the last stop. He's leaving the bathroom when the Douchebag himself turns a corner, followed by his posse of minions. Robb ducks into an open door and closes it. He waits and listens for them to go away, but the hellish music is too loud for him to really hear anything, so he decides to just wait the time he has left and go for it, even if he ends up punching Joffrey after all.

It takes a minute, he's so focused on the door, but when he turns around, he realises he's hit jackpot.

It's clear the room is Joffrey's from the get go. The decour is fancy, much finer than what Robb has seen in the rest of the house, all in red and gold. There is a real longsword hanging from the wall, and snooping around, Robb finds a laptop. It's not password protected, and the search history makes Robb's stomach roll with nausea.

He also finds a cabinet full of bottles. The fucker has his own private drinking store in his room, like he's some kind of high-end politician making shady deals in his house, not a cretin who wears caps backwards in the sun. Gods, Robb loathes him.

But they're on a mission here, so he texts Theon and waits. Theon answers, telling him to hide, and he gets under the bed just in the time to hear the door opening. He recognizes Theon's boots, and Joffrey's sport shoes. The door closes behind them.

Even with the dubstep pounding in his ears, he can hear Theon's melodious laughter and an ugly cackling that must be Joffrey.

“I'm sorry you missed his face.” Theon yells in a falsetto over the music. The bed groans under somebody's weight, but the mattress barely dips. “I thought he was going to explode right there on the stage.”

“Stark's always been a pathetic loser.” Joffrey says. He's using his falsely pleasant voice, but he sounds wasted; Robb's blood turns to ice in his veins. He has a flash memory of Sansa's bruised wrist, and of the sword on the wall, and the next image his mind conjures is Theon laying prone on a pool of red, ridiculous wig letting his black hair spill like a dark halo. “You were saying he was almost crying when you left, Esgred?”

“Oh, yeah, red in the eyes, face scrunched, all the waterworks ready, etc., you know how it goes.” Theon says in the same high voice, and Robb wonders if it's only to him that it's clear he's making stuff up as he goes. Joffrey seems to be buying it, if his laughter is any indication. “The Redwine twins said you keep the good stuff here?”

“In the bathroom, actually. Sit tight, you deserved to have some fun.” Joffrey says.

Robb listens intently as Joffrey's steps go to the private bathroom. He doesn't close the door; it seems he's buying Theon's act, then. One way or another, Robb crawls from under the bed and ignores Theon's frantic mimicking, gets the sword from the wall, and rushes to crawl back before Joffrey comes back.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Theon screams, like he can't help it, almost in his normal pitch, but Robb is already under the bed when Joffrey runs to the doorway.

“What in the Seven Hells was that?” He says, suddenly cold. Robb holds the hilt of the sword tighter and listens.

“Some weasel-faced person just burst in, yelled at me and stole your sword!” Theon says, going back to his falsetto like it's the most natural thing. Robb will punch the next person who makes fun of him for taking Classical Singing as an elective.

“Stay in here!” Joffrey orders, and rushes from the room. He doesn't stop to wonder why the door is still closed in the first place if someone burst in, but then again, he was convinced by Theon's wig. Robb doesn't stop to think about anything either; he crawls from under the bed, dragging the sword with him, and grabs Theon's hand to rush away.

Only Theon tugs back, gets free and goes for the liquor cabinet.

“Are you kidding me?” Robb says. He looks out of the door; there's a group of people in the corridor. Someone threw up, which has thankfully diminished the flow of people in this part of the house. “We're dealing with an actual sociopath here, who has a real sword to kill things in his room. We have to go! What if he gets Mountain Clegane?”

“This is what we came here for.” Theon says in a scratchy voice. He's uncaping every bottle and dropping two pills in each. What little is sealed he puts under his jacket. Robb is scared of how many pockets the thing has. “Did you listen to what we were talking about? I only had to say I saw you sad after he bought the debate to get an in. We can't just let him do whatever he pleases.”

Robb doesn't say anything else. On the inside, he agrees; but he has discovered, in the most convoluted way possible, he cares more about his and Theon's safety than about getting back at Joffrey.

Theon doesn't share his opinion. He finishes with the bottles and goes to Joffrey's private bathroom. He gets back with his jacket bursting with so much toilet paper he could probably take a shot to the chest and get away safe and sound. He goes so far as to find and hide Joffrey's fancy towels under the bed, and emerges back with the gym bag.

Robb has to snort at this. He grabs the gym bag, also fit to burst, from Theon's hand. Then he gets the sword, too.

“Joffrey can't be trusted with this.” He says, when Theon arches an eyebrow.

By some miracle, they make it out of the house with everything they're carrying. Robb doesn't even try to conceal the sword, though he avoids drawing attention to it, and they leave throught the front door without running into Joffrey or his minions once.

“That's why parties should have an invite list.” Theon says when they're safely back at his scooter.

“Because your nemesis might walk in and steal your stuff.” Robb says brightly. His cheeks are hurting, he's smiling so wide. Now they're out of danger, it all seems like great fun.

“That too, but I was thinking of the general tackiness. Drowned God, I need a shower.” He says, and starts the scooter.

It's slow going, and more than once Theon has to stop so Robb can reorganize the stuff. The gym bag keeps threatening to fall, and Theon votes to leave it behind, but Robb has already decided to leave it at the homeless shelter, and won't be swayed.

They stop at the Blackwater Bridge first, however, and watch as Joffrey's sword dissapears under the heavy foam. Robb also throws Theon's wig and they laugh as it floats on the waves where the river meets the sea.

“Are you feeling better?” Theon asks, hugging Robb by the waist. He drops his head on the top of Robb's curls, and this alone feels better than all the things they did tonight, even if they felt damn good in the moment.

“I am.” Robb admits freely, hugs Theon's waist back and breaths him in. “Though you scared the shit out of me when you showed up with Joffrey, of all people.”

“He's too dumb to be dangerous.” Theon says, rubbing his cheek on Robb's hair. “As long as he's alone, I can break him like a twig.”

“We're not very good soulmates.” Robb says, out of the blue. At Theon's questioning noise, he sighs and tries to explain. “Sometimes we get each other so well, and then we go and miss the most obvious things. You knew getting back at Joffrey would make me feel better tonight, but then you freaked out when I went for the sword. And it was clear to me you were faking the whole conversation with him, but I didn't expect you to insist on finishing the prank. So we're not very good at the soulmates thing. It's more of a hit and miss situation.”

It's a miss this time, for example. Robb expects Theon to be a little sad about this confession, but Theon only laughs in his hair.

“Robbie, dear,” Theon says, and Robb's heart leaps at the endearment said in such an earnest tone, no hint of mockery to be heard. Theon almost never speaks like this. “This soulmate stuff is bullshit.”

Robb just turns to give him a look, but Theon caresses his cheek and keeps on smiling genuinely. The moonlight makes him look softer and glowing, so handsome Robb wants to bite him.

“We're our own persons, and we think differently.” He whispers, black eyes piercing into Robb's very core. “My therapist always says there's no such thing as reading each other's mind, we can only listen to each other, and be patient. And that is if the other person wants to talk at all.”

“I always want to talk to you.” Robb admits. He feels vulnerable saying it aloud, even though he has told Theon much more intimate stuff. “And to listen to you.”

Theon's smiles so sweetly hearing this it eases the ache in Robb's heart.

“Me too.” He says back, simply.

 

vi.

One fun fact about dating Theon: he only needs to enter the room to become the star of Robb's system. It's a constant, as sure as the sun rises in the east; the pull between them as grounding and unavoidable as gravity. And it's even more true since they started officially dating. Robb is hopeless to resist it. He doesn't want to.

Which leads to another fun fact about dating Theon: Robb has a hard time saying no to him.

They are in line for breakfast in one of the many canteens around campus, Robb trying to convince Theon that cramberry juice is just as good as orange, when their phones buzz with an incoming e-mail at the same time: it's from the college administration, an announcement that someone has stolen or broken all light bulbs in all the classrooms in the university, which means classes are cancelled until they can be replaced.

Theon lets out a maniacal laughter when he finishes reading, and promptly abandons his tray and pulls Robb from the line. Robb let's himself be lead as far as the door; there, he catches up to Theon and they start walking side by side, hand in hand.

“We're trendsetters, my man.” Theon says, squeezing Robb's hand. “We gave people hope; now they are out there, fighting the good fight.”

“We created a monster, or several, you mean.” Robb says, though he can't stop a mad smile of his own. Around them, students are cheking their phones, walking about or getting together in small groups to commiserate. They all seem a little thrown, like their lives have lost all sense without the crushing pressure of academia weighting down on them. “This is an unexpected repercussion.”

“But welcome.” Theon shrugs. “Now we can go somewhere to get a real breakfest before this mess gets solved.”

“I like the uni's food.” Robb protests, already knowing where this conversation is going. “Not all of us need to have fish in every meal.”

“Greenlanders are barbarians.” Theon says, schooling his features into a semblance of seriousness for a second, only to lose it and start laughing.

Soon they're both laughing and swinging hands as they walk. Theon leans over and kisses Robb's cheek in the most obvious and unnecessary attempt of a boyfriend to convince the other boyfriend to do something ever in the history of Westeros.

“Patreck was telling me of this place by the docks, it's supposed to be very good, and I promise it doesn't serve only raw food this time.” Theon says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Robb can't help but snort, but he's stupidly endeared by it all the same; as far as he knows, Theon only does it in his presence, least his cool persona falls apart.

“Darling, it's seven in the morning.” He says just to be contrary, but he's already rummaging his pockets for his car keys with his free hand. Since his parents gave him the car, Theon's scooter has been all but abandoned when they're together, and he's not about to break tradition.

“I know, I know, but how else are we to spend this beautiful, class-free morning, but by the sea, in a romantic, near deserted, hole-in-the-wall restaurant? Just the two of us.” He winks at him and puts a lock of black hair behind his ear charmingly.

“I can think of one way.” Robb says, stepping closer and brushing a kiss on the corner of Theon's mouth.

He gets a flushed smile in return, but that's all he gets.

“I'm sorry, dude, but it's Maidday, Olyvar must be doing his naked yoga thing in your room as we speak. I'm not risking it.” He says, eyes bright with triumph.

They get to Robb's car, and it's understood, as Robb starts it, that they are going to whatever shitty place Patrek has been going on and on about to Theon this week. It's a very nice car, both comfortable and fast, and his parents gave it to him for making president of the King's Landing University prestigious debate team. The irony is not lost on Robb.

Theon gives him directions, and it's a close enough place. They get there in a little over twenty minutes, with the light morning traffic, and for once it seems like not a dump. It's well-lit, airy, and though it's not as empty as Theon predicted, they get a nice little secluded table in under ten minutes.

The waiter hands them the menu and leaves. Robb takes a moment just to look at Theon and let himself feel enamoured. Theon browses the menu, a little frown of concentration forming on his forehead as he reads, but it disappears quickly when Robb starts to play footsie with him under the table. He smiles down at the clearly new pages, and Robb turns to his own menu doing the same.

He reads the whole thing, laughter getting more and more difficult to conceal until he's done. When he looks at Theon again, there's a smirk on his lips that doesn't know if it's amused or annoyed, and he's looking at Robb with an arched eyebrow. Daring him.

Robb loses it. He laughs, loud and heartfelt. He only stops when Theon kicks him on the ankle, hard, when an oink threatens to escape his nose.

“What goddamed kind of seaside joint–” Theon starts, sounding perplexed, and snorts before he finishes, like there aren't enough words in the common tongue for this tragedy. “I can't believe it. I counted Patreck as a friend.”

“Did Patreck tell you it served fish? Did these words actually leave his mouth?” Robb says, snorting. Theon frowns at that, unable or unwilling to remember, so Robb goes on. “Give him the benefit of the doubt. Let's try something, come on, it looks good.”

Theon humphs, but ends up ordering scrambled eggs. Robb very charitably doesn't say he could have had the same thing at the university, and orders a full Crownlands breakfast for himself, with eggs, bread, ham, coffee and fruits.

They have a good time, because Theon can't hold onto a bad mood to save his life, as long as anyone makes even the smallest attempt at cheering him up. They're walking back to Robb's car, hand in hand again, when something bites at Robb's ankle. It hardly hurts, but he startles so badly he nearly hits Theon in the face.

“What? Drowned God, are you alright?” Theon yells, hugging Robb by the shoulders and pulling him to the opposite end of the sidewalk without a second thought.

It's a touching gesture, but useless, because he only saved Robb from a puppy.

“Look at it, it's so cute.” Robb says, disentangling himself from Theon's hold and approaching the dog cautiously. It sniffs his offered hand curiously, nips at him with toothless gums and licks at Robb's fingers, wagging his tail. “He just wants to play. I think it's a he, I mean.”

“It's a he, Robb, I can see his balls all the way from here.” Theon says, rolling his eyes, then immediately loses his chill as soon as Robb picks the puppy up. “What are you doing? This thing just tried to kill you, put it back down.”

“Aw, he didn't try to kill me. Maybe he's hungry? Look, he didn't even open his eyes yet, the grey ball of fur.” Robb says, taking a step closer and showing the puppy to Theon. “I don't see any other dogs around, maybe he's an orphan? Do you think he can drink regular milk?”

“Give him here.” Theon says, and holds the dog close to his chest when Robb obeys. “I suppose he's bit cute. Let's have a look around, see if we can find any kin, and then we take him to the closest shelter.”

They do find a litter of puppies sleeping in a cardboard box just around the corner, all around the same size, with no sign of an adult dog or responsible human near. It's clear they have been abandoned.

Robb grabs the box carefully, and Theon holds the grey puppy until they reach the car. Then he puts him in the box with his siblings, sits in the passenger seat and lets Robb put the box on his lap without objection. By the time Robb walks around the car and takes his seat, Theon is already engrossed by the puppies. So engrossed, in fact, he doesn't notice when they drive straight past the animal shelter.

“I feel kind of bad leaving them with strangers.” Robb says, probing, as soon as they are past the ugly pink building.

“Me too.” Theon nods, letting one of the puppies bite at his fingers.

“Especially Grey Wind.” Robb says. He can see from the corner of his eye as Theon turns his attention to him with a suspicious tilt to his eyebrow.

“You've named them.” He deadpans.

“Just the one.” Robb says, trying for casual but failing, if Theon's snort is any indication. He soldiers on. “I mean, it would be hard to keep more than one. And Jon is visiting next week, maybe he would like one for himself.”

“And I suppose you're going to keep them under your coat until Jon arrives.” Theon says, rolls his eyes and goes back to pulling faces at the puppies, even though he has to have seen they're still blind.

“Well... I do live more or less on my own.” He says. In his head, the plan is already formed. Olyvar is cool about most things, and if he isn't... “We could ask Olyvar to trade dorms with you for the week.”

Theon smirks at that. “I see. On one hand, I could violate several university norms and face a harsh punishment if we get caught. On the other hand–”

“Like you care about that.” Robb mutters under his breath, and Theon flicks his arm.

“As I was saying, on the other hand, I get to room with my gourgeous boyfriend and his illegal puppies instead of starting my daily prayer for death as soon as Hyle enters the room.” He finishes, pretends to think about it as he scratches his chin. “Decisions, decisions.”

“Have I ever steered you wrong?” Robb asks, winking at him.

“Illegal puppies it is, then.” Theon relents easily.

They share a laugh and a peaceful ride back to campus, and are almost at Robb's dorm when it dawns on him.

“I think this is the first time I've won an argument against you since we started dating.” He says, smile spreading on his face.

“I let you!” Is Theon's immediate answer, but anything else he might say is stalled by a buzz on their phones. Theon gets his from his jacket pocket, clicks the screen and curses. “'In the hope of preventing any further acts of vandalism, the University of King's Landing Administrative Board has voted in favour of the installation of security cameras in the public spaces of the campus. We will continue investigations to unveil the individual responsible for this morning's events.' You sure did pick the right week to smuggle a dozen puppies into college, Robbie.”

“I always did like a challenge.” Robb flashes Theon a bright grin and turns a corner to the sound of Theon's melodious laughter.

 

vii.

In theory, Olyvar Frey has been Robb's roommate for over three years now. They were a good match when they were put together randomly in their first year, became quick and good friends, and neither ever bothered asking for a replacement or a private room, so together they stayed the next year, and then the next.

In practice, Robb has lived alone from Smitday evenings to Fatherday mornings since freshman year, and now Olyvar has all but moved out.

“I have family in Rosby.” Olyvar had said the first time he had left for an extended weekend. “My mother's side. If I stay, Father will bug me about babysitting my cousins twenty-times removed in my free time and, well... you've met them, Robb.”

Robb has indeed met the Freys, in all their weasel-faced glory. There seems to be more of them at uni every year, and while some are kind of okay in small doses, most are a walking, talking example of why family planning should be a thing. Olyvar is the exception rather than the rule. Robb can sympathise with his need to run as far away as possible.

It gets a little lonely, sometimes, especially because he's used to being surrounded by people wherever he goes. But Robb has learnt to appreciate it. And there is definitely some advantages to a runaway roommate when one has a boyfriend.

“I'm sure I can make it on my own.” Theon complains. It's all he's been doing all day, ever since he called Robb to pick him up on a trail because he fell and fucked up his ankle. One would think it was Robb's idea to go running in the rain, alone, without telling anyone about it.

“The doctor said to keep it up.” Robb says. It's just good tactics not to tell Theon he won't be able to jump the four flights of stairs, one step at a time, on one foot. He wouldn't try to prove him wrong, probably, but he'd definitively be offended. “Let your doting boyfriend carry you upstairs bridal-style. It's romantic. Might even be a fantasy of mine.”

Theon rolls his eyes and sniggers. His arms tighten a little around Robb's neck as they start the long trek up. He's white from the pain.

“I hope I'm not injuried in this little scenario.” He jokes, but his voice trembles. “Because otherwise your fairy-tale prince reputation is at risk.”

“Goes without saying.” Robb says.

They don't talk at all the rest of the way, Robb because he's puffing and trembling under Theon's weight; Theon because he's gritting his teeth from the pain of getting moved around. Thankfully it's late enough in the evening that people are already out partying, and they don't run into anyone. There's some manoeuvring involved in getting the door open, but before long they're inside, and Robb lays Theon down carefully on his bed.

Then he kisses Theon's forehead.

“Just because you're cute.” He says as an explanation.

Theon snorts, then grimaces.

“The painkillers will kick in soon.” Robb says. He steals Olyvar's pillow and very, very gently, lifts Theon's foot and puts it on the fluffier spot. “Anything else I can do for you, darling?”

“Spoil me.” Theon says with a sigh. He wiggles in the bed, trying to settle in a more comfortable position, and though there's nothing purposefully sensual about it, Robb feels his body warming in certain areas all the same.

“We both know I already do that.” He says, leans over and kisses Theon's lips close-mouthed. “I was thinking more of something you might need.”

Theon just shrugs. In truth, they both know he's already as comfortable as he's likely to be with a swollen, twisted ankle. He's already fed, because Robb got them take-out while they waited for his X-ray results, and clean, because he insisted Robb bring him home and help him take a shower before going to the doctor, no way he was going to the ER covered in mud. He's even as serene as he ever gets, because Robb has sworn never to tell a soul he was crying when Robb found him on the trail.

“Cuddles and a movie?” He says, and Robb is happy to oblige.

They're half-way through a generic comedy, with Theon laid half on Robb's chest and half on the bed, eyes glued to the laptop screen at the end of the bed, when Robb finally gathers the courage to ask.

“Do you want to call Asha?” He says, almost hoping his voice will disappear into Theon's dark hair and the night will go on with easy laughter and the odd pained whine. Instead, he feels Theon tense immediately at the question, then go lax almost in a calculated manner.

“No use. They must be on the plane by now.” Theon says. He would sound genuinely nonchalant to someone who didn't know him like the back of their hand.

“Are you sure? I mean,” Robb caresses his arm lightly, tracing invisible patterns in the dark hair. “It's your birthday, you should be able to do whatever you want.”

Theon snorts at that, but it's not a happy sound. It's darkly amused, almost angry. Robb is cranning his neck trying to look at the side of his face, but Theon is looking at the screen very pointedly.

“I didn't fuck up my ankle to get out of seeing my garbage relatives, if that's what you're thinking.” Theon says. There's a sharp smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, Robb can see, ready to cut him open if he prods too much, too fast. “And it's low to ambush me while I'm laying on you and unable to run away.”

“Well, it's called an ambush for a reason.” Robb jokes, hugging Theon closer to his chest. He sighs in relief when Theon huggs his arms back, relaxing for real.

“Let's just go back to watching the movie.” He says, interlacing their fingers together. “It's dumb enough that we'll know what's going on even though you decided to have a Talk in the middle of it.”

Robb hums in agreement, and makes sure to laugh whenever he feels Theon starting to shake in his arms in a prelude to his own laughter. His mind is not in it, however.

For Robb, it's still strange to not want to spend time with his family. The Starks are a close-knit clan, despite the past drama of his mother dating first uncle Brandon and ditching him for his father, or aunt Lya running away with a married man in her teenage years, not to mention the time Robb and Jon got in the car with the little children, at the ripe age of ten, and drove them to the pool to avoid participating in the annual spring cleaning.

The first person he met who had an outright unpleasant relationship with their family was Olyvar, and it was easy to understand it when one meets the Freys.

The Greyjoys are on another level altogether.

Robb had not been prepared for it. He had assumed all families were like his, and then, after Olyvar had made it clear that no, not all families enjoyed each other's company, he had still naively believed all families loved each other, even if they didn't like each other all that much. He had met Asha the same year he met Theon, when she took a flight to King's Landing just to celebrate his nameday with him. She had seemed cool, and Theon had been happy to spend the day with her, and Robb hadn't been disabused of his notions just yet.

There were hints, of course. First of all, Theon had seemed baffled by Robb's closeness to his parents the first time he went to Winterfell for the holydays.

“You have one of those talking families.” He had whispered in Robb's ear, in awe, moments before they got out on the platform. The whole welcoming committee had been waiting for them at the station, and the ginger haired half of the family was easy to spot even from inside the bus. “You talk to each other.”

“Yes, we're not mute.” Robb had laughed, and Theon had smirked, amused.

Then there was the way he avoided going back to the Iron Islands if at all possible, even though he wouldn't shut up about ironborn culture to anyone who would listen. More than once, he stayed with Robb well past his own finals were over, and once he took a chance to work in a braavosi fishing boat instead of going home for the summer.

Robb had remained oblivious until the day he had confessed to Theon he was gay.

His nervousness was ridiculous in hindsight. He had already known Theon was into guys as well as girls by that point in their friendship, that there was no way he would lose his best friend over that. But he had trembled and shook during the entire conversation, and Theon had ended up making him drink almost a whole pot of tea to calm him down. By the time he had finally said, in tears, that he had always liked men, and had only ever felt attracted to men, Theon had laughed in his face.

“I thought you were dying, you ass!” He had cried. “Drowned God, I thought you were going to say you had terminal cancer or something!”

They had laughed so much then, out of happiness and sheer relief, that Robb could never have anticipated how the rest of their talk would go. He had apologized, sniffling like a three-year-old, for worrying Theon, and for not telling him right away.

Theon had dismissed him with a handwave. “You don't have to tell anyone anything, dude. It's your life. I know it's hard to be out.”

“I'm just a coward about this.” Robb had said. It felt so freeing to admit it, both his nature and his flaws, he could even breathe a little easier. “You let me know almost from the start.”

He knew his face must have shown openly all the admiration he felt for Theon right then, because Theon had only looked puzzled and stayed quiet instead of making a joke.

“How is it in the Islands? For people... like us.” Robb asked. He had been dying to know ever since Theon had first admitted to crushing on a boy, but had never asked. Until then. “Is it good? Do people mind it?”

Inside his head, he had built up the Iron Islands as a whole different world. Theon often said that one had to be truly made of iron and salt to thrive there. Robb had supposed, somehow, that in a place like that people wouldn't care, would have more pressing matters to attend. That the ironborn would be gentle under a hardened exterior, but also untameable and brave.

He had thought they would all be like Theon, but Theon had laughed at the idea before Robb had even expressed it.

“Do people mind it? I suppose it depends on who you talk to.” He had said, smirk turning bitter and sharp. “Most people don't, as long as you prove yourself. No one ever bothered me after I beat stupid Todric bloody, and the Drowned God knows I never looked anything but a faggot.” He had looked down at his own manicured hand, brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. It had been shoulder-length when they met, but was almost down to the middle of Theon's back then. “Then there is my family.”

Robb had let the silence fall over them, clutched harder at his mug, and waited for Theon to keep going. Too afraid even to touch him, least the thunderous expression on his face break into storms.

“As long as we're in a confessing mood...” Theon had started, with a snort. Robb had wanted so, so badly to hug him, then. “No one has ever accused me of being straight. It's enought to look at me, right? I'm a fucking stereotype. And everybody knew before I did; I wouldn't even admit it to myself. I pretended for the longest time, only no one but me was convinced.”

“So what?” Robb had said, offended on Theon's behalf. “There's nothing wrong in taking your own time.”

Theon had laughed at that. “You're missing the point, my red-headed teddy-bear. It's not bravery to be out of the closet if you're too flamboyant to get inside it in the first place.”

“How do you mean?” He had asked, beyond confused.

“I mean I didn't come out because I was brave or whatever you think. My family was on the lookout since forever, and I guess they spotted all the signs, then when I was seventeen my father got empiric evidence and kicked me out of the house.”

“He kicked you out.” Robb had echoed. There had been a tension on Theon's shoulders, an anger on the curve of his spine, that made plain how much it hurt to talk about the topic. A part of Robb wanted to soothe him, wrap him in a blanket and made him drink what was left of the tea, but another part of him was morbidly curious to know every piece of him, even the ugly, bent ones. “He just walked away from you like that.”

Theon had snorted and shrugged.

“If only. He gave me a good beating and took my house keys from me before going. Asha barely smuggled me my guitar and my bow before he started to burn all my stuff, and I ended up living in my car for a while. But, well, to be fair, he never explicitly said it was because I was bi. For all I know, he hated me because I was the only one not cursed with the Greyjoy nose.” He had had the gall to wink at Robb.

“Holy fuck.” Robb had whispered. It was like one of his worst nightmares being narrated back to him. In his mind, it was him blowing some anonymous guy in the locker room, and suddenly Ned Stark was there, serious and disappointed; even then he couldn't imagine his father throwing him out, hurting him. “Shit.”

“Yes.” Theon had agreed. “Shit, indeed. After that I never bothered to pretend again. Didn't see the point. And that's why I told you sooner rather than later.”

“What happened to you after?” Robb had asked, knowing the story was not over. There had been a gap there, the time after he was thrown out but before he made it to uni. They had begun college in the same year, but Theon was four years older than him. Robb had ached to know what had happened to him, wanted to be reassured Theon had been fine, even though the evidence of his survival had been standing right before his eyes, brushing his hair away from his face.

Theon had just shrugged again and changed the subject.

Robb knows now what happened to Theon. The sea happened, Asha happened, and Dagmer. And then therapy, so much therapy that Theon is basically a functioning adult now, thank the old Gods, though some days he seems so bent on destroying himself it scares Robb stiff. None of the good things he has are thanks to the Greyjoys. They exist despite the Greyjoys, in truth.

“You're smothering me.” Theon's voice rouses him from his thoughts, and Robb startles to notice he is holding on too tight to Theon's chest, putting too much pressure on his fingers. He lessens his hold with an apology, but doesn't let go.

“I should go with you tomorrow.” Robb says. They've had this discussion before, many times, since Asha called to say the whole family was planning on going down to King's Landing for Theon's nameday, after years of complete avoidance. His father, his brothers, even the crazy uncles, all following Balon Greyjoy like ducklings.

Theon had all but forbidden him from interacting with any Greyjoy beside himself and Asha, but that was before he twisted his ankle. Robb has hope it'll change now.

“You don't want me to watch this movie at all.” Theon says. He drums his fingers on Robb's arm, stretches out his whole body until he can click the space bar with the toe of his uninjured foot. The scene freezes on Loras Tyrell's expression as someone off-screen throws green paint on his hair.

“Honestly, Theon.” Robb says. He pushes Theon away from his chest carefully, until he's laying on the mattress and can't avoid looking back at him. “The last time you talked to your father, he beat you. You're injured. Let me go with you.”

“Robbie, I can handle it.” Theon smiles, propping himself up on one elbow. Robb is surprised to see he looks touched instead of annoyed. “Asha will be there, we'll meet in a public place, I'll see what they want and go away singing Blue Wat's _This Year_ before lunch.”

Robb sniggers, lays down by Theon's side and rests their foreheads together.

“Stop trying to seduce me with your obscure music references.” Robb says, closing his eyes.

Theon's breath is like a soft caress on his lips.

“ _My broken house behind me and good things ahead, a boy named Robb wants a little of my time._ ” He sings, kisses Robb for real. They kiss until Theon winces from moving his swollen ankle.

“Seriously, though.” Robb opens his eyes, watches as Theon blinks lazily and makes a face at him. “Call me if you want to get out before Asha will give you a ride. And call me when you get home. If you don't, I'll assume you got kidnapped and I will chase down all your relatives.”

At that, Theon snorts, puts a quick kiss on Robb's mouth and rubs their noses together.

“I've got you.” Robb says, promises.

Theon sighs and gives him one of his small, secret smiles.

“I know.”

 

viii.

Their formal dressings are the same deep crimson, for the same great area. It clashes badly with Robb's hair, but Theon looks beautiful, even more so because he's in a great mood, smiling and laughing at everything. He can't seem to decide which side he wants to put the string from his cap on. It's the kind of small thing that annoys him – and by extension, Robb – on a bad day, but now it doesn't seem to matter.

In five minutes, Robb will have to step in, or they'll be late for their own ceremony. It won't do at all, as Robb is supposed to make a speech, and all his immediate family, plus Jon, is coming. Asha and Dagmer are here for Theon too. They're the only ones, as the last time the rest of the Greyjoys came to King's Landing, it ended up in a public brawl and the promise to disinherit Theon for good.

Robb is dizzy, almost nauseous, from nerves. It's the unexpected heat wave coupled with the stuffy clothing, the prospect of public speaking in front of all the teachers and undergraduates. But it's also the knowledge that in a few hours, he'll be reintroduced to Theon's family as his boyfriend, and that he'll do the same to his family about Theon.

“This side.” He says, walking up to Theon and putting the string on the left side.

“Are you sure?” Theon says, tinting his head slightly. “There's a pimple growing on the right side, maybe if I put–”

“You're fine, darling. This side for sure.” Robb cuts him off with a quick kiss on the mouth and lingers after it's over, breathing him in. “Did you finish packing?”

“Yeah, I'm all ready. I put my bags next to yours.” Theon smiles at him and puts his arms around Robb's neck. “Are you ready?”

His bags are packed, sitting on the trunk of his car, next to Theon's, he supposes. Both of their tickets are in his wallet, all paid for, and Arya has agreed to take care of Grey Wind for the next month. There's only the furniture that came with the dorm around them, not a single personal touch visible. He's as ready as he can be. And yet.

“I'm just... sad, I guess.” He says, hugging Theon around the waist. “Uni is over. We're bona fide adults now, with only the unknown in front of us.”

“Well... I wouldn't say only the unkown. We do have some plans.” Theon smiles at him. It's clear to Robb, from the tilt of his eyebrow alone, he really wants to laugh in Robb's face. He appreciates Theon's reinstraint. “We'll have Tyrosh, and then Lys for a while. And you have your intership right after.”

“Yes, but I was happy here.” Robb says. He sighs, then rubs his nose to Theon's just to watch him scrunch it after a moment. “I am afraid of it all ending.”

Theon puts a hand on Robb's face, caresses his cheek with a single finger. The other hand tugs lightly at his curls, and Theon leans forward for a kiss that turns deeper than the one before. He rubs his nose on Robb's voluntarily this time.

“We were happy here.” He says. There's nothing mocking in his tone, for once, but it's not serious either. It's light, content. “And we'll keep on being happy from now on, somewhere else, together.”

It strikes Robb all over again that Theon might be the bravest person he's ever met, and he's suddenly glad he gets to be here, and with him. Robb buries his face on Theon's neck, laughs on the sweaty skin, and soon they're both gone, Theon with his contagious laughter and Robb with his trademark oink noises.

They keep at it, hugging and laughing, until Robb's alarm goes off, signalling they really have to go. Then they separate with red faces and tears running down their cheeks, and Theon squeezes Robb's hand before turning to open the door. They leave together, and Robb leaves the room unlocked and the key in the key-hole.

That's how it ends. And how it begins, too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Robb gets drunk and throws up on Theon. Over the story, Theon uses the word faggot a couple times, and there's some discussion about homophobia as well. The Greyjoys are still their dysfunctional selves.
> 
> The song Theon sings to Robb is This Year, by The Mountain Goats.


End file.
